Harry Potter and The Half Blood Prince
by ginoeh
Summary: The second war begins and shows Harry and his friednds the cruelty of men.
1. Default Chapter

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by Joanne K. Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books, Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**Warning: **This is my first English fanfiction so please bear with me when my grammar and choice of words isn't always perfect. I'm doing my best, really. Just correct me if I'm making any major mistakes.

**Summary:** The second war plays out in full force and Sirius was by no means the only victim. The prophecy inevitably leads Harry towards his destiny but one choice is still for him to make: Will he fight to live or will he chose to join the loved ones he lost? He will encounter weakness and strength, love and betrayal. The sixth year in Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry will be the darkest Harry and his friends ever had to go through but it is said to be always darkest before the dawn, so is it?

**Pairing:** I don't know yet though it will certainly not be slash. It will be either Harry/Hermione or Harry/Ginny (I know that's not much use for all of you shippers out there g). I tend to Harry/Ginny but I really don't have any preferences. It's just that I have better ideas what to write when our hero is together with the red head. The books give clues to either, though.

**Rating:** It's PG-13 right now but it might go up in the near future depending on how much detail I'm going to put into the chapters (And what you guys want to read winks)

**Genre:** Action/Adventure/Drama

_And now let the show begin..._

_**Harry Potter and The Half Blood Prince**_

_**by**_

_**ginoeh**_

_Catch me as I fall_

_Say you're here and it's all over now_

_Speaking to the atmosphere_

_No one's here and I fall into myself_

_This truth drives me into madness _

_I know I can stop the pain if I will it all away Don't turn away_

_Don't give in to the pain_

_Don't try to hide_

_Though they're screaming your name_

_Don't close your eyes_

_God knows what lies behind them_

_Don't turn out the light_

_Never sleep never die_

_I'm frightened by what I see_

_But somehow I know that there's much more to come_

_Immobilized by my fear_

_And soon to be blinded by tears_

_I can stop the pain if I will it all away_

_Don't turn away _

_Don't give in to the pain_

_Don't try to hide_

_Though they're screaming your name_

_Don't close your eyes_

_God knows what lies behind them_

_Don't turn out the light_

_Never sleep never die_

_Fallen angels at my feet_

_Whispered voices at my ear_

_Death before my eyes_

_Lying next to me I fear_

_She beckons me shall I give in_

_Upon my end shall I begin_

_Forsaking all I've fallen for I rise to meet the end_

(_Evanescence_, Whispered, Album: _Fallen_)

Prologue

It was a dark day in Privet Drive, Little Whining, Surrey, literally. Grey clouds obscured the heavy sky as they had done for the most time of the previous two weeks and a distant grumbling sound bore news of an approaching storm.

The few people who had dared to set foot outside their safe and orderly houses gave the skies a suspicious glance and hurried to finish whatever idle task they were occupied with.

When chilling gusts of wind finally started to head down through the streets, rush over trees and ruffle the neat, well-kept and nearly abnormally clean front gardens of the square houses no soul could longer be seen outside their respectable homes.

At least, so it appeared.

A vigilant observer could have seen the slim, shadowy figure of a boy or rather young man clothed in old, baggy jeans and a faded, black jumper with the sleeves rolled up several times to expose pale, long fingered hands as he silently crossed Magnolia Crescent, seemingly not paying attention to his surroundings at all.

What he could not have seen, however, was the dark skinned, bald man who followed the youth in near distance, ceaselessly keeping an eye on the neighbourhood, yet never averting the other one from the figure walking in front of him.

Kingsley Shacklebolt stifled a groan which was about to escape him as the young man took yet another turn heading now for what he had come to recognize as the park of Little Whining.

It was not so much a park as a place covered in grassy moulds on which the town counsel had erected a few swings, benches and an area to play any sort of ball games.

Shacklebolt cursed under his breath as the strong wind swept under his clothes threatening to rip away the Invisibility cloak which was concealing and hiding his form completely.

Rain was pouring down on them when they finally reached the muddy, deserted grounds of what seemed to be the youths destination.

Silently berating himself for taking over Moody's shift of the guard Shacklebolt wrapped himself in his now utterly and thoroughly soaked robes trying to keep himself from shifting and shivering too much where he was crouched hidden beneath some bushes.

An indignant hiss escaped him as a big, icy raindrop splashed into his neck from one of the branches above him soaking what had seemed to be the only dry part left of his body.

However, in contrary to what it seemed the young man Shacklebolt was watching was fully aware that he was being followed as well as who exactly his follower was.

But he simply did not care.

He did not care that cold water was running down from his too long, black hair and into his neck.

He did not care that he could hardly see through his wet, misty glasses behind which astonishingly emerald green eyes were hidden.

He did not care that his whole body was numb with cold and that his right palm, crusted with dried blood, was now throbbing painfully.

In fact, he welcomed the pain.

It was a focus point to keep his thoughts from going back to that fateful night at the Ministry of Magic, to keep his mind from remembering.

It had been a bad idea to start rummaging in his school trunk, he should have known that.

It had not been until five minutes into searching for his Transfiguration book when something sharp had sliced into his palm. When he discovered what it was it had been too late.

It was a mirror.

_The_ mirror.

He had stared at it, unseeingly, for Merlin knew how long, his injured hand leaving scarlet marks on the old carpet in his room.

And then he had run; had run from the suppressed memories that were now rushing back at him, from the guilt and this horrible void inside of him which made him feel as if he was drowning any minute.

"Sirius", a slight moan escaped him, as tears started to mingle with the rain on his pale, exhausted face.

"Sirius", he choked out a bit louder as he felt his knees give away beneath him and he fell onto the muddy earth.

Loud thundering was rolling over Little Whining as the youth let loose his emotions in a harsh cry full of pain, guilt, rage and hopelessness that was carried away with the stormy wind and startled many an inhabitant in the streets near Magnolia Crescent.

Underneath the bushes behind the youth Kingsley Shacklebolt pressed himself onto the damp ground as with the cry an unexpected and intense wave of raw, uncontrolled magic washed over him letting his hair stand on end and making it hard to breath in the sizzling air.

With an nearly unreadable, yet slightly shocked expression he continued watching the mourning young man and promised to himself to never get on the wrong side of Harry Potter, who was also known to the wizarding world as The-Boy-Who-Lived.

mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

Now, what do you think, guys? I'm dying to get some reviews from you. Even flames are welcome if they contain constructive criticism.

You know, I'd blackmail you lot into reviewing but I don't really have any ideas of how to do this. So all I can do is beg. (falls to her knees and kisses the seam of your trousers) (Ahem, reminds me somehow of Voldi's Death Eaters... well, just skip it. ;-))

**R&R !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!**

cheers,

ginoeh


	2. Fighting For The Living and Remembering ...

**Disclaimer:** (Do I have to say this in every chapter???) I'll cut it short: I don't own Harry Potter & Co. so you can't sue me. ( bad luck, isn't it? g)

Oh, what I wanted to say last time: Any similarities with other fanfictional stories are not intended but merely coincidence. Of course, I have been influenced by what I've read but these are my own ideas. If others have got the same and feel offended by my work, I apologize.

And another **Warning:** I most probably won't be able to update this story regularly as I'm making it up as I go. I might run out of ideas at some point but I promise I won't abandon the story.

And here comes the next chapter...

Chapter 1: Fighting For The Living and Remembering The Dead

When Harry reached Number four the sun had already set and a brooding and chilling night laid over Surrey. No star could be seen in the still clouded sky as he hurried over the front lawn of his relative's house tightly clutching his own body from which his wet clothes hang like old rags.

Just as he was about to ring the doorbell he stopped and noticed that the whole house was dark and quiet.

"Darn", he murmured thickly as he sneezed, startling one of Mrs. Figg's many cats that was no doubt stationed in front of the house in order to keep a permanent watch over him.

It couldn't be late enough for them to already have gone to bed, could it?

Dudley was sure to be home just before midnight these days and there was no way that it was even remotely near that time.

Hoping against all evidence that his resulting conclusion was wrong Harry worked the bell. But there was no sound from inside the Dursley's home.

Angrily, he hit his hand against the doorframe which helped nothing at all to improve his mood as his injured palm now started bleeding again.

"Just my bloody luck, isn't it? Can't anything go as I want just once?!", he half groaned, half hissed and sat down onto the doorsteps. Only to discover that he had just sat right into the only pool of water on the whole step (Not that it actually mattered as he was still soaked from the rain).

He breathed deeply in an attempt to calm himself when a velvety, soft voice asked out of nothing:

"Not going inside, Harry? I for one would prefer the warmth of my home to sitting out here."

"Good evening Mr. Shacklebolt", Harry surmised evenly as his eyes snapped open and fixed themselves onto the spot next to Petunia's beloved Rhododendron bush from where the voice had come.

"You too, Harry", the man responded and obviously pulled his Invisibility cloak down a bit as his head was now floating in midair.

"Problems with getting in?"

Harry nodded, eying the Auror closely. There was no sign that he wanted to talk about what Harry had come to call his 'breakdown' in the previous hour. Harry was glad about it. He didn't really like the prospect of discussing his deepest feelings and emotions with a man he barely knew.

"They're out", he added with a resigned sigh, "or at least so it seems. I wouldn't put it behind them to pretend to not being there and hoping I'd just go away and never return."

Shacklebolt laughed quietly.

"Don't be so sarcastic. It doesn't suit you, you know."

"I wasn't being sarcastic at all. That's just what they are", Harry remarked wryly, "But back to the topic. Can you help me to get in? I don't fancy a night on the doorsteps. It's rather cold outside."

"Why don't you use the replacement key? Muggles always have one or two."

"I would but every time I've figured out where they hide them they just relocate them again so I don't find them", Harry explained slightly amused.

"They really don't like you, do they?", Shacklebolt said mildly.

"Nope", Harry replied not really enamoured with the subject of the Dursleys. If he had no way of finally leaving them for good he absolutely didn't want them to be the main topic of conversation when he actually could get hands on an Order member.

"Could you just... you know?", he swished his hand in a wandless imitation of the Alohomora-charm.

"Of course", the Auror agreed and with a barely audible 'click' the door opened.

"Thanks. D'you want to come in? If you've been watching me all the time you must be quite cold and wet, too."

Harry really wanted the man to join him. No exactly because he cherished or even welcomed the company. In contrary, he'd have loved to be alone now in order to be able to make up his mind about a few things but his need for information proved to be even bigger.

Maybe he could get some news about what was going on.

The two letters he had gotten from Ron and Hermione so far hadn't exactly been forthcoming with valuable information, naturally.

"I'd love to, Harry, but the guard's shifting in a few minutes as I'm sure you know by now."

Yes, Harry had known. He just had no way to know the time right now. So it had to be past ten o'clock. They changed guard precisely at 10.23 every other evening (At the remaining ones it was changed at 10.37).

Harry shrugged and was just about to head inside when he remembered something.

"Why are _you_ on duty , anyways? Thursday and Saturday it's Moody in the fourth shift."

"You're well informed", Shacklebolt smiled.

Harry shrugged again dismissively.

He hadn't really done more than staring out of the window, apart from staring at the ceiling of his bedroom, trying to keep his memories at bay and lost in swirling and incoherent thoughts about anything and nothing.

The only distraction he had allowed to himself had been to try and figure out which order member worked when to watch him.

Today had been the first time he had gone outside on his own accord without having to do any chores which required him to leave the house.

"Fudge made a formal inquiry and asked Moody to meet with him. Our dear Minister wants him out of retirement and back in his Auror ranks", Shacklebolt answered helpfully.

"Hm. Bet Moody loves that", Harry remarked before turning to the door, "Good day, Sir."

"Like hell he likes that", he thought he heard Shacklebolt whisper to himself before the door fell close behind him.

* * *

The house was dark and empty. 

No sign of the Dursleys whatsoever.

Harry silently made his way up the stairs to his small, shabby room while he mentally braced himself in order to not give in to his grief again.

Hesitantly, he opened the door and stepped in. He already saw the remnants of Sirius' mirror which had made him lose it.

Cautiously, he walked nearer, images of Sirius, alive as well as dying, flooding his mind anew. He stared at them for a few minutes, unable to make himself move, then he took a small box from under his bed which held presents from the Dursleys like old socks, a broken pencil and other worthless things.

He put those pitiful reminders of his first ten birthdays and Christmases into the bin and carefully placed the broken shards of the mirror in it.

He'd have to ask someone to fix it for him.

After storing the box in his trunk he flopped onto his bed and gazed musingly at the ceiling.

He missed Sirius.

So much.

Whenever he closed his eyes he could literally feel the place inside of him his godfather had held and which was now terribly empty.

A dry sob caught in his throat but he didn't cry.

He couldn't.

At least to some extent he was responsible for Sirius' death, no matter what everyone told him, and he could feel the guilt of it resting heavy on him, pulling him down.

This was what sometimes made it so hard to breath like it had only hours before.

Harry sighed deeply.

His outburst during the storm had really helped somewhat. It had made it easier for him to come to terms with what had happened although he still felt his chest constricting at the thought of how his own stupidity had led to his godfather's death.

He knew he owed Sirius and he intended to make up for his mistake.

Sirius had died because he was trying to safe him and Harry was now determined to prove to himself as well as to everyone else that he wouldn't need this kind of sacrifice any longer.

He wouldn't rush off without any thought of the dangers ahead of him, he wouldn't mindlessly give in to his 'saving people thing' any more without evaluating the situation, he wouldn't – no- he couldn't live on his life without the proper information and knowledge about what was important.

Not with the prophecy hanging over his head.

When Harry's thoughts reached this point his stomach clenched painfully.

People were relying on him. They might not be aware of it but if he failed the light side would inevitably fall.

There was no way around it. He had their lives and future on his hands for good or bad.

Murder or be murdered.

No escape available...

... murder or be murdered...

Harry snapped out of his dark thoughts when he heard the sound of a door opening and then snapping shut forcefully again.

He hastily put some rolls of parchment and a few too obviously magical items into his trunk all the while trying to calm himself again and stop the trembling of his hands.

Just when he threw his History of Magic book into his trunk from across the room his door banged open and the unmistakable broad and out-of-shape form of his bully uncle filled the frame.

"So you're back", he observed, clearly disappointed of said fact.

Quite clever, that guy, Harry thought at the unnecessary notion.

"Mhm", he answered simply but, how could it be else, this angered Vernon even more than his sheer presence.

"Do not address me in such a disrespectful manner, is that clear, boy!", he snapped, "I don't care about your freakish friends and their threats. If they pull anything at all, I will go straight to the courts and-"

"Dad, you said you'd help me fix my punching bag in the cellar this evening, remember?", the baritone of Dudley suddenly interrupted Vernon's tirade about what he would do to Harry's friends if they came near him or his family.

"Yes, right you are, Dudders, but first I have to teach this one here some manners..."

"But Dad", Dudley whined annoyed, "You know if it gets to late the neighbours will be pissed about the noise we're making. Come on, I can't hold up the bag _and_ nail it to the ceiling. I only have two hands, not four."

"Of course, my son", Vernon gave in.

With a filthy look back to Harry which clearly said 'don't you dare get into our sight today or any time else' he stomped down the stairs.

Dudley followed him at a more leisurely pace and for a moment Harry was sure he had seen him giving a slight wink and a small smile in his direction before disappearing downstairs.

But that surely was a mistake on his part, wasn't it?

There was no way Dudley Dursley, his overweight, bullying, stupid cousin would try to get him out of trouble.

Well, admittedly, Harry had noticed that said cousin had changed a fair bit during the last year. Actually, he wasn't overweight at all, any more. Perhaps still a little bit too much to be called 'normal' but it sure was no comparison to the rest of his life.

And Harry had to admit that he might have to rethink his definition of 'stupidity' as Dudley seemed to know quite a bit, after all.

It was nothing which really interested him (or Uncle Vernon for that matter) but one evening he had caught his cousin secretly learning something which he recognized as Latin words.

At another time he had found him naming what had seemed to be all the muscles and bones belonging to the human body. Harry had listened to him behind closed doors as he repeated it for the umpteenth time.

It had been one of the only nights Harry had actually been able to sleep.

But the biggest difference that he didn't hang out with his usual gang of rowdies any more.

Harry had watched Piers Polkiss giving 'Big D' a very cool and calculating look when they met one day in front of the Dursleys' house.

No, Petunia's Little Pumpkin had changed for the better.

So perhaps Harry had not been mistaken at all when he thought Dudley giving him a wink.

He sighed and abruptly closed his door again.

He had no time and no nerve to deal with his cousin's changed attitude right now. He had to start to try and train for surviving.

Undecidedly, he walked up to his school trunk once again.

What would be the best to start with?

Harry began sorting his books into neat stacks next to his bedside table, each stack containing the books of one year.

"No, that's absolutely not it", he murmured absentmindedly as he looked at the fife large piles of books with a sinking feeling.

He wasn't Hermione.

He couldn't possibly read _that_ much.

Finally, he settled on revising all his Charms, Transfiguration, DADA and Potion books as well as his fifth year's texts of Astronomy and Herbology. It was still a fair bit of work. Maybe he should just with reading about Potions until he got his O.W.L. grades.

Yes, that would do it.

He put the books he wouldn't use into his trunk again, placed the remaining ones onto his desk and skimmed a bit through the pages not really wanting to start learning right now. To gain some time Harry pulled out a sheet of parchment, a quill and some ink and started writing down what he intended to do.

After listing his reading work he paused, thinking.

What were his other Things-To-Do?

A little stamina and reflex training couldn't possibly hurt when he wanted to dodge curses, could it?

Not too much tough, he definitely didn't like running.

It reminded him too much of his younger years when he had had to run from Dudley and his gang. He noted it down and then when a happy screech from the window sill broke the silence of his room.

Hedwig, his beautiful snow owl, was back from hunting.

"Hey, my girl", he greeted her softly as she landed on his shoulder and started nuzzling his ear lovingly, "Yeah, I'm back to talking mode again."

He laughed quietly when she hopped onto his desk and eyed his unruly, loopy scrawl as if she could actually read it.

"I'm glad you put up with me the last weeks. I know I haven't exactly been an enjoyable companion, have I?"

Hedwig hooted knowingly.

"Thanks girl. I'm sorry."

Harry watched her for a while and then sat down on his bed.

Thirty minutes past midnight.

He heard Vernon telling Petunia rather exasperatedly to stop bustling around in the kitchen and either go to bed or sit and watch TV as she was making him nervous.

Harry decided to call it a night and changed into his pyjamas but before he laid down into his bed he hesitantly set his alarm clock for 6.30. He knew it would be hell to get up at that time but with his schedule he'd better start early.

And this way he could even avoid being seen by Vernon who went to work three full hours later.

* * *

It was hell. 

Harry was lying in his bed, out of breath and with a thumping heart, his ears still ringing from the shrill sound of his alarm clock.

The clock, which he had once carefully repaired, was now lying at the other end of the room and gave off an unhealthy irregular ticking sound.

It seemed as if he had to do some repairing work again.

Above it, the wall-paper gave evidence of the exact spot the clock had collided with it, previously.

With a silent groan Harry stumbled out of bed still squinting his eyes from the sunlight which had miraculously found a way through some clouds and the dirty window into his room. Hedwig hooted sleepily and simply put her head deeper into her feathers but not without eying him indignantly for interrupting her slumber.

"Lucky you", he mumbled as he reached for some old trousers and a dark blue T-shirt which for some odd reason looked unused.

Although Harry had grown quite a bit as he now was about 5 feet 9 inches he was still no match to Dudley and so had a hard time rolling up the legs of his trousers in order to be able to put on his shoes.

When he had opened his cupboard for the first time this summer he had found it full of clothes which were now too broad for his cousin which meant, of course, that Harry could wrap them around himself twice.

Fastening the trousers with an old leather belt (that actually had too less holes in it to really fit him so he had to force the small metallic stick through the leather in order for it to be of any use to him) he silently made his way his way down to the front door, still yawning widely.

Before stepping outside he hesitated a moment and then grabbed Dudley's key as he was sure his cousin wouldn't miss it that early.

20 minutes later sweat was trickling down Harry's forehead and he felt as if he was about to collapse every moment.

He slowed down and tried to get his pulse back to normal the way he had learned during his years of Quiddich practice when he heard someone behind him panting heavily.

He swirled around his hand ready to pull out his wand which was hidden underneath his shirt and promptly collided with something invisible which was directly behind him.

Ungracefully, he and his follower lost balance and fell onto the hard ground in the process of which Harry managed to tangle himself up in a cloak the invisible person was wearing.

He landed quite softly on the pavement but the person he landed on gave off a loud 'Pfffffft' before the Invisibility cloak was ripped from it to reveal a groaning, sweating and red-faced Tonks whose facial colour clashed horribly with her bright orange hair.

"Why, thank you Harry-love", she managed to get out through gritted teeth, "I really wanted to get cosy with you sometime soon but I hoped it would be in a less...erm..._harsh_ manner."

Harry stared at her for a moment before realizing the compromising looking position they were in and then hastily tried to stand up while blushing furiously.

As Tonk's cloak was still tangled impossibly around his too large trousers this just resulted in him falling back down.

This time however, Tonks rolled out of the way and he landed backside first on the pavement.

"Ouch!!!", he hissed disgruntled but then instantly freed himself from the cloak.

"Morning Tonks", he muttered as he stood up and rubbed his hurting bottom.

"Hmpf", the young Auror replied and let Harry pull her to her feet again.

She dusted herself off and then examined him from head to toes.

"This outfit doesn't suit you at all, Harry", she said bluntly, "It makes you look even unhealthier than you already are."

"Gee, thanks for asking, Tonks, yes I'm fine and you?", Harry replied dryly to her lack of proper greeting as he neatly folded the Invisibility cloak and shoved it onto Tonks whose expression fell rapidly.

"Oh no, look I'm sorry, Harry. I didn't want to make fun of you. It's just...", she trailed off uneasily, obviously unsure of what to say.

"It's okay, Tonks", Harry sighed, "You guys don't have to walk on eggshells around me. I'm not that easy to break. Just don't make fun of me in the mornings. I don't take too well of that."

"Aye, Sir", the young Auror replied mockingly and fell into step next to him as he turned to head home again.

He glanced at her sideways

"What were you doing, anyway? You were breathing like an old horse. You didn't really think I'd miss that?"

"I was watching you", Tonks answered slightly insulted, "Couldn't you see that?!"

"I assumed I wasn't _supposed_ to see you", Harry blinked, feigning ignorance.

"Twit!"

"Whatever"

"But honestly, Har, you shouldn't walk around like that. You'll just scare the neighbours with your look."

"Has already happened so no harm done."

Twit!"

"You're repeating yourself", Harry stated innocently.

"I know!", Tonks said exasperatedly, "You just don't seem to be willing to have a proper conversation with me. And here I thought you'd like my company and I'd propose you a shopping trip to London..."

She hung her head in mock sadness.

"Alright, alright", Harry surrendered smiling, "You won. I'd love to go shopping with you. I haven't done that since...erm...well, never, actually. But it won't be that easy. You'll have to talk to Dumbledore about it. I guess this will confuse his whole schedule for the coming weeks."

"Hey, do _you_ know what he's on about?", Tonks suddenly asked and observed him closely, "No offence or anything but do you have to be guarded all the time? Sure, you're The-Boy-Who-Lived and all but still..."

Harry's amused smile vanished instantly and he tried to take on a neutral, blank expression. He absolutely didn't like the direction this conversation was heading.

"You don't know?", he asked quietly. "Should I?", came the reply.

"If you don't then...", he hesitated shortly thinking how to best put it into words.

"Some things are better left unsaid", he finally mumbled, "The truth can be quiet dangerous if it gets into the wrong hands."

Tonks didn't say anything on that but looked forlornly onto the street. They walked in silence for a few minutes both lost in their thoughts.

Harry silently wondered how many people actually knew of the contents of the prophecy. Somehow he had the feeling that it was just him and Dumbledore who were aware of it all.

It started to rain lightly again and they accelerated their steps.

"Well, maybe that's why Dumbledore has been so upset lately", Tonks started again.

Harry quirked an eyebrow inquiringly.

"I wouldn't have noticed, of course. I mean I really can't say I know him good enough to read his expressions and feelings but I overheard Elphias Doge and Minerva one evening. They talked about how upset and troubled he seemed to be about something", she explained and then added, "It's since, you know... the Department of Mysteries that he's been like that, they say. Something must have happened afterwards or it has to do with Si-... Sirius'...d-death..."

Her voice faltered and Harry noticed her wiping away a single tear from the corner of her eyes. It hit him just then that he wasn't the only person who missed Sirius. He was – had been Tonk's cousin, after all. She had to be mourning, too.

And Lupin...

Harry's insides went cold when he thought of his former teacher.

He had to be devastated to lose his last fried, the last true Marauder.

Harry's eyes darkened as he put his arm around the small form of the young Auror trying to give her some resemblance of consolation. After some more minutes of silent and subdued walking they turned into Privet Drive and Tonks suddenly stopped.

"Isn't that your cousin over there", she asked suspiciously and indicated to the far end of the lane where a tall man was just disappearing behind some bushes.

"Unlikely", Harry frowned, "but shouldn't you put on this nice cloak of yours? Ms. Vance will surly report straight to Moody if she learns that you don't wear it. You're supposed not to be seen, you know. "

"You really know everything about your guards, don't you?", a small smile lightened her saddened features.

"Not everything", Harry replied.

"See you soon, Harry. I'll talk to Dumbledore about our trip to London. Just keep writing your check-up letters. Everyone's waiting with trepidation for them. I think they just want a reason to get you out of this horrible house."

She put the Invisibility cloak back on and instantly vanished into thin air.

"I'll try to keep you informed about everything. You deserve that. Stay safe", she whispered into his ear.

"You, too", he murmured and then went to unlock the Dursley's door.

Out of the corner of his eyes he thought he could see a soft glow where Tonks was hiding at the other side of the street but when he turned to observe it more closely it was gone again.

Harry dismissed it as sunlight on the raindrops as he put Dudley's keys back to where they belonged and then headed upstairs to take a quick shower before the Dursleys would wake up.

It was 7.40 when he finally left the bathroom, now much more lively and still trying to flatten his unruly raven hair.

He was pretty unsuccessful to say the least.

He either had to cut his hair really short or it had to grow a bit more for it to stop sticking out at odd angles all over his head. Harry decided to opt for growing as long as he hadn't any opportunity to see a hair dresser.

He definitely wouldn't let his aunt Petunia get near his hair ever again.

Back in his room he decided to start reading up on his DADA books as he found them to be the most interesting ones. Soon, he was so engrossed in reading, marking important sections and scribbling notes over the original text that he didn't notice the time flying by until his aunt peaked in through his door.

"If you want to have breakfast you have to get down now. We won't wait for you."

Harry looked up surprised to find that it was already a quarter to nine. He couldn't remember ever reading for an whole hour without interruptions and not longing to do something else.

"I'm coming", he answered shrewdly and pushed his things out of the way. But Petunia had already left.

When he walked into the kitchen he was greeted with the all familiar sight of Vernon reading his paper and Petunia standing at the sinks preparing something or other.

Only Dudley fell our of the picture when he gave Harry a long and curious look. Not knowing what to make of that Harry sat down opposite his cousin and tried to reach for the toasts which were at the other end of the table only to find them handed to him by –

Dudley.

He was just about to reflexively say 'thank you' when Uncle Vernon's booming voice interrupted.

"And you really don't remember where you've put your keys Dudders? Perhaps they're in your room?"

"Erm, no. Actually, they've been on the board all the time. I guess I just overlooked them this morning", Dudley answered a tad nervous, again casting a glance at Harry who was now trying not to chock on a piece of toast which had caught in his throat.

Coughing and gasping for breath he grabbed his glass of orange juice and gulped it down spluttering half of it onto the table and his T-shirt.

"Boy, what the hell are you doing!", Vernon barked angrily, "This is absolutely disgusting! You-"

"Sorry", Harry rasped teary eyed still having trouble to breath and bolted from the kitchen table.

Out in the hallway he leaned onto the railing of the staircase and got into a painful coughing fit until a hand patched his back a few times. The piece of toast in his throat seemed to loosen and went down where it was supposed to be.

"Thanks", he gasped finally able to get air into his lunges again. But then he swept around alarmed.

"Dudley, what-"

"It was you who took my keys this morning, wasn't it?", he said.

"I- yes, but..."

"You could have asked, you know", Dudley went on seemingly a bit put out, "I had to take Dad's..."

"What-", to say Harry was confused would have been a severe understatement.

"If you knew so why did you lie to Vernon", he managed to get out, eyeing Dudley suspiciously. These must have been the most civil words he had heard his cousin say to him, ever.

"You'd have gotten into trouble for nothing", he answered shortly not looking Harry directly into his eyes. If you wanna go jogging in the mornings just wait till 7 o'clock when I'm going. That way, no one will notice."

"Why are you helping me", Harry asked furrowing his brows in an attempt to figure out the motives of his cousin.

"I'm helping only myself", he answered avoiding Harry's piercing gaze, "If you get into trouble I'll have to pretend to enjoy seeing you punished by doing slave work."

"You used to enjoy it", Harry challenged.

"Not anymore", came the mumbled reply.

"Why? What-"

"Drop it, ok? Just drop it , frea- Harry", Dudley burst out quietly, turned his back on Harry and went up to his room.

"Be there tomorrow if ya want to", he repeated.

Harry speechlessly watched the retreating figure which once had been his most hated enemy.

What an odd morning, indeed.

He would have to think about this new attitude of Dudley before meeting him the next morning which he definitely intended to do but right now it somehow itched him to go back to reading.

Another oddity of the day.

Shaking his head in bewilderment Harry made his way back up into his small bedroom where Hedwig had finally awoken and resumed his reading.

* * *

After a sleepless and troubled night Harry got up with a bad headache the next morning. Tiredly, he clothed himself and fought to come up with a solution of his Dudley-problem. When he heard his cousin leaving his room Harry stopped pacing back and forth and decided to just give Dudley a chance.

If he proved himself, good, if not, well, he couldn't lose anything.

It would already be worth the attempt if he could figure out why he had changed.

He met Dudley at the bottom of the stairs where he stood patiently clothed in a stylish running outfit. They acknowledged each other wordlessly and then left.

Harry soon discovered that Dudley was in a much better shape than he had given him credit for.

After 40 minutes of struggling to keep up with him and pushing himself far over his limits Harry finally gave up.

Blood was pounding loudly in his ears and dark spots annoyingly kept obscuring his vision. He blinked several times to get rid of them but it didn't help much.

"Keep standing", he heard Dudley instruct him when he started to slide down a garden wall because his knees trembled too much.

"You're funny", he gasped and hoped he wouldn't get sick. He was somehow felling really queasy. He leaned heavily against the wall when his vision started to blur again.

"You're breathing to fast, Harry. Slow down, slow... damn it-"

Harry's hands slid from the wall as he started swaying dangerously. He just hoped the pavement wouldn't be too hard when he hit it but suddenly a pair of hands stabilized him and helped him to lay down.

Ten minutes later Harry could feel his strength slowly coming back to him and he noticed Dudley sitting at his side who was watching him concerned.

"You better?", he asked when Harry pushed himself into a sitting position and turned to face him.

"Yeah, I'm fine", he replied exhaustedly and gratefully accepted the bottle of water his cousin handed him. Slowly he took a sip.

"Thanks."

Dudley mumbled something which resembled a grumpy 'you're welcome' but Harry wasn't too sure about that.

"You should always stop when you feel you've overstepped your limits by a bit. That way, you'll get increasingly better but at the same time avoid what has just happened", he lectured Harry instead, "You can't expect your body to go from zero to one hundred per cent in a jiffy. You'll have to train ad earn it."

"Yes, professor", Harry replied moodily, quite put out by the fact that he was being lectured about sports by a boy whom he had labelled incapable of more movement than eating, walking (slowly) and punching.

Dudley shot him a glare but didn't comment.

"Actually, I was surprised to see that you kept up with me that long", he conceded, "I was running pretty fast. I counted on you giving up after 20 minutes the most."

"Why, thanks for your confidence, Dud, but I do have this nasty habit of never giving up until I've finished or I black out", Harry said sarcastically.

They got up and slowly started walking back to Number 4.

"So when did you start running, after all?", Harry finally asked when Dudley didn't seem to be willing to be the talk-master any more.

"Last year September", Dudley replied, "That was when I decided to change a few things about me."

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why did you decide to change", Harry saw his chance to get at the bottom of this mystery.

"That's none of your concern. I just did", Dudley said irritably.

"Yes, it is. After all, that's a new Dudley Dursley walking next to me now. The old one always wanted to beat me into a pulp. Mind you, he actually had some success in it, as you know", Harry insisted, his curiosity getting the better of him.

"I...I was reminded of something those holydays."

"The Dementors' attack?", Harry asked quietly the memory of it vividly in his mind.

"Yeah", Dudley whispered, "Those freaky things made me see-"

"Yes?"

"Why d'ya wanna know, anyways", he suddenly snapped, "It's not your business."

Harry fell silent and thought about how to proceed best. He had to apologize to Dudley for the attack. After all, the Dementors had been there because of him. He really didn't wish the experience of an almost-Dementor-kiss on anyone even if it was Dudley Dursley who had made his younger years a living hell.

"I always see my parents", he finally admitted softly.

Dudley stopped dead and looked at him unbelievingly.

"You see your parents when those Duddy-thingys are near you? Why the bloody hell would you!?"

"I see them die, Dudley. I see them die over and over again. I see Cederic die. I see Voldemort coming back. I relive him torturing me, mocking me. I guess now I would see my godfather die, too. Those are my worst memories and that's what the Dementors do. They make you relive them", Harry looked intently at his cousin who only stared back at him.

"What did you see when they came, Dudley?", he asked again, now very seriously.

"It's not so much what I see but what I feel", he said in a whisper.

"What is it?", Harry pushed cautiously.

"You know I used to terrorize others since I could make a fist and hit someone. I thought that was really great and all but one day about two years ago we, that was me and those others of my gang, came across this other gang at Smeltings.

"They were older than us and about twice as much and they... they just started to beat us up. We had no chance. Most of us were down soon and Malcom McDougal was unconscious."

Dudley stopped for a moment obviously trying to gather his thoughts. Harry waited patiently for him to continue.

"I—Somehow I got hold of a knife one of our attackers had. I didn't know what I was doing...I- I stabbed him...several times."

His voice was barely audible now.

"There was so much blood and he didn't move and Malcom wasn't moving either and the others just stared and then run away. I don't really know what happened after that. Somehow I got out of it all. The police said it was self defence... I tried to forget it and went on as I did before. They all respected me, my parents thought I was some sort of hero... It was so sick..."

"Then why did you go on beating up people?", Harry asked quietly but with a bitter note in his voice.

He remembered too well poor Mark Evans whom they had beaten up so badly a year ago that Harry had decided to anonymously call the ambulance.

"I dunno. Maybe I hoped it would get better that way but it didn't. Every time I felt sick afterwards when I thought about it but I persuaded myself that next time al that would go away... It never did and then came those Dimenswhatevers and made me remember..."

Harry didn't know what to respond to this confession so he kept his silence.

Dudley seemed to be glad about it.

* * *

To Be Continued

* * *

**Reviews:**

Kirstie232: Thanks and of course I did.:-)

glitterwings: Now, how did you like it?

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Evie: Thanx! And here you go!!!

* * *

**A/N:**

Your reviews are all apreciated dearly. I really hope I'll get more of them soon. I seem to be addicted to them, somehow.

Action's coming soon, by the way.

So, write and **review**, please!!!

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